


To Loathe and to Love

by quillsand



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Heartbreak, hpshipweeks2015, romione, romione ship week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsand/pseuds/quillsand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron has something he desperately needs to tell Hermione. If only she was willing to listen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Loathe and to Love

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the romione ship week for hpshipweeks on tumblr! Using the prompt 'I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified' that tumblr user hermionegrangel sent. Also thanks to diva-gonzo for the beta!

The strong winds whistle as they pass through the trees, whipping against the sides of the tent. It’s a dark night, yet the frost is still visible on the forest floor. The young witch fights against the shivers of her body and chatters of her teeth, too stubborn to go inside and find a blanket.

Wrapping her cardigan tighter around her emaciated frame, she listens carefully for any sign of activity. It’s quiet except for the fading whisper of the forest around her; Harry and Ron must be sleeping.

Despite the stillness of the night, Hermione’s mind can’t seem to rest. She jumps from one thought to another too quickly, too impatiently. Ron. Harry. Horcruxes. Hallows. Her parents. Ron. The war. Hogwarts. Voldemort. Ron.

She had once found the calm reassuring. Now she has come to resent its presence.

Sometimes it feels like they’re the only things in existence, that it’s just the three of them, alone in the universe. On nights like this, the heavy silence seems to drag her down, and she wonders how her own thoughts manage to be so loud in a world devoid of noise.

It’s suffocating.

The tent flap rustles behind her, and Hermione’s body stiffens. There’s a miniscule ‘click’ before a small ball of light appears in front of her, illuminating the small area. It takes all of her will not to turn around.

She’s not ready. Not yet.

She feels the light pressure of a blanket being wrapped around her shoulders, ever so gently, and tries to ignore the sting of tears in her eyes. It’s too soon, only a fortnight since he returned after saving Harry’s life and obtaining the sword. Setting her jaw, she gives an almost imperceptible turn of the head, determinedly staring off into the distance. She hears a tiny sigh escape Ron’s lips as he settles on to the ground next to her.

“Hermione?” He whispers it cautiously, speaking her name as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Is it okay if I talk to you? You don’t have to reply or anything, I just need to… well, I just wanted to apologise. Again.” 

He pauses, and she can practically hear the plenitude of uncertainty in the silence. She wants to scream at him to leave her alone. Can’t he see she’s unable to help him? Doesn’t he understand that she can’t do this right now? She’s not willing to fix anything between them, not in case he destroys it again.

Ron takes a deep breath, “I’m not good with words, Hermione. Not at all. Even if I was, I doubt I’d ever be able to convince you to forgive me. Especially since I can’t even convince myself.”

Hermione continues staring straight ahead, her eyes focused intently on the tree in front of her. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me anytime soon. Or at all, really. I know I cocked things up by leaving you, and I’m not going to try and excuse it. I just- I need you to know something.”

Hermione’s heart races, but she quells any outward show of emotion immediately. He doesn’t deserve that from her. He doesn’t deserve anything from her. _He left me, and Harry, when we needed him._

When she doesn’t reply, he continues. “Because I don’t think I can handle it otherwise. If you didn’t know- that is. And well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you already knew because, well, you know everything.“ At this he gives a nervous sort of chuckle, as if hoping his weak attempt at flattery will win her over.

It doesn’t.

"But I need to tell you. See, the thing is…” Ron trails off and runs a shaky hand through his hair. 

“I mean, what I’m trying to say is… bloody hell, you’re not exactly making this easy for me… You and me- we’re… well, it’s never been exactly simple, has it? And I think I know why that is now. I’ve been a complete arse, and I know you deserve way better but… I really care about you, Hermione. “

Hermione hears the truth in his voice, but she tells herself it’s a lie. She won’t let herself believe him. If he really cared about her that much he wouldn’t have left. It’s as simple as that. If there’s one thing Hermione’s good at, it’s learning, and she’s learnt to never leave her heart in the hands of Ron Weasley. It’s a lie, she tells herself firmly. Just pretty words betrayed by terrible actions.

“Hermione?” This time his voice has a different tone, it’s frail and weak, tinged with bitterness. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it.” There’s a pause. A pause that’s much too silent and much too loud at the same time and if he doesn’t speak soon she might just scream, scream so loud that she’ll never have to deal with Ron Weasley and his horrible, tormenting silences ever agai-

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” 

The trees carry on swaying gently in the small wind. The stars carry on shining innocently in the sky. Hermione carries on staring straight ahead. Nothing changes.

Her heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest. The blood pounding in her ears makes her lightheaded. She has to remind herself to breathe. Everything changes.

The silence is still painfully prominent. It infuriates her. How dare the world be so quiet when everything that’s happening is so loud? Loud, loud, loud.

She struggles against the deafening quiet, searching desperately for just an ounce of clarity. With her mind spinning in a million different directions at once, Hermione finds it hard to concentrate. There’s too much going on in her brain, too much to process. Her thoughts are an incoherent mess of half formed sentences and dizzying emotions. Somewhere in the mix, she realises that maybe it’s not because she can’t think, but rather because she refuses to think. Ignorance will always lead to less pain, after all.

She doesn’t know how she manages to remain unresponsive, but she does. Time seems to pass in an irregular way and eventually Ron is forced to break the pseudo calm.

“Right then.” he says, and his voice is choked, raw. “I’ll just…” Hermione can’t see the hand gesture he’s making, but she knows it means he’s leaving. She hopes it means he’s leaving. Each second he stays is another minute where she’s holding on by the ends of her ragged fingernails. She can’t afford the luxury of tears in front of him.

There’s a shuffle before she hears the tent flap close, and that’s when she lets herself collapse, clutching the magically warm, soft blanket that he left for her with icy fingers. Her crying finally breaks the silence, and she’s grateful. Now she doesn’t have to think. Hermione focuses on the tears running down her cheeks rather than the reasons behind them. She lets herself cry for longer than she has done since the night he left, and afterwards she feels different.

Nothing changes. Yet everything does.

She doesn’t realize that he’s listening just inside the tent flap, his heart breaking worse than hers has.


End file.
